Part 19 (2/2)
Valbroso rode doith hiseyes and a predatory beak of a nose He wore black plate-armor and was followed by thirty spearmen, black-mustached hawks of the border wars, as avaricious and ruthless as himself Of late the toll of the caravans had been slim, and Valbroso cursed the civil wars that stripped the roads of their fat traffic, even while he blessed thehbors
He had not hoped lirist that came to his mill With a practised eye he took in Conan's worn mail and dark, scarred face, and his conclusions were the same as those of the riders who had passed the Cimmerian on the road an empty purse and a ready blade
”Who are you, knave?” he deos,” answered Conan ”Whatdirection for a Free Coood and also the plundering Join ry The road remains bare of fat ues and fare southward to sell our swords to whichever side see that if he refused outright, he ht be instantly attacked by Valbroso's aran spoke again: ”You rogues of the Free Companies always know tricks to ht, by Mitra, and the only one I've seen for a week and the knave is stubborn He has an iron box, the secret of which defies us, and I've been unable to persuade hiht I knew all the modes of persuasion there are, but perhaps you, as a veteran Free Companion, know some that I do not At any rate come with me and see what you may do”
Valbroso's words instantly decided Conan That sounded a great deal like Zorathus Conan did not know the h to try to traverse the Zingaran road in tih to defy torture
He fell in beside Valbroso and rode up the straggling road to the top of the hill where the gaunt castle stood As a man-at-arms he should have ridden behind the count, but force of habit made him careless and Valbroso paid no heed Years of life on the border had taught the count that the frontier is not the royal court He are of the independence of thehad trodden the throne-path
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There was a dry moat, half filled with debris in soh the arch of the gate Behind the
They carass, and with a well in the led about the bailey wall, and woaudy finery, looked fro-s under the arches It was more like a bandit's hold than the castle of a nobleman
Valbroso dish a doorway and along a vaulted corridor, where they werea stone staircase evidently the captain of the guard
”How, Beloso,” quoth Valbroso; ”has he spoken?”
”He is stubborn,” lance of suspicion at Conan
Valbroso ripped out an oath and sta stair, followed by Conan and the captain As they ony becah above the court, instead of in a dungeon below In that chaaunt, hairy beast of aa beef-bone voraciously, stood the machines of torture racks, boots, hooks and all the implements that the human mind devises to tear flesh, break bones and rend and rupture veins and ligalance told Conan that he was dying The unnatural elongation of his lied joints and unnaent, aquiline face and quick dark eyes They were glazed and bloodshot noith pain, and the dew of agony glistened on his face His lips were drawn back froums
”There is the box” Viciously Valbroso kicked a small but heavy iron chest that stood on the floor near by It was intricately carved, with tiny skulls and writhing dragons curiously intertwined, but Conan saw no catch or hasp that ht serve to unlock the lid The e and chisel showed on it but as scratches
”This is the dog's treasure box,” said Valbroso angrily ”All men of the south know of Zorathus and his iron chest Mitra knohat is in it But he will not give up its secret”
Zorathus! It was true, then; the ly as he leaned over the writhing forerness
”Ease those ropes, knave!” he ordered the torturer harshly, and Valbroso and his captain stared
In the forgetfulness of the moment Conan had used his imperial tone, and the brute in leather 169
instinctively obeyed the knife-edge of coradually, for else the slackening of the ropes had been as great a tor up a vessel of wine that stood near by, Conan placed the riulped spas breast
Into the bloodshot eyes canition, and the froth-s whiue
”Is this death, then? Is the long agony ended? For this is King Conan who died at Valkia, and I a the dead”
”You're not dead,” said Conan ”But you're dying You'll be tortured no more I'll see to that
But I can't help you further Yet before you die, tell me how to open your iron box!”
”My iron box,” mumbled Zorathus in delirious disjointed phrases ”The chest forged in unholy fires a mountains of Khrosha; the metal no chisel can cut How many treasures has it borne, across the width and the breadth of the world! But no such treasure as it now holds”
”Tell ood, and it may aid me”
”Aye, you are Conan,”on your throne in the great public hall of Tarantia, with your crown on your head and the scepter in your hand But you are dead; you died at Valkia And so I knowsay?” de Kothic ”Will he tell us how to open the box?”
As if the voice roused a spark of life in the twisted breast Zorathus rolled his bloodshot eyes toward the speaker
”Only Valbroso will I tell,” he gasped in Zingaran ”Death is upon me Lean close to me, Valbroso!”
The count did so, his dark face lit with avarice; behind him his saturnine captain, Beloso, crowded closer
”Press the seven skulls on the riasped Zorathus ”Press then the head of the dragon that writhes across the lid Then press the sphere in the dragon's claws That will 170
release the secret catch”
”Quick, the box!” cried Valbroso with an oath
Conan lifted it and set it on a dais, and Valbroso shouldered hi forward
Valbroso cursed hi in his black eyes
”None but me shall open it!” he cried
Conan, whose hand had instinctively gone to his hilt, glanced at Zorathus The lazed and bloodshot, but they were fixed on Valbroso with burning intensity; and was there the shadow of a gri iven up the secret Conan turned to watch Valbroso, even as the dyingthe ri branches of strange trees
An inlaid dragon writhed its way across the top of the lid, a haste, and as he jaon he swore sharply and snatched his hand away, shaking it in irritation
”A sharp point on the carvings,” he snarled ”I've pricked on's talons, and the lid flew abruptly open Their eyes were dazzled by a golden flame It seelowing fire that spilled over the ri flakes
Beloso cried out and Valbroso sucked in his breath Conan stood speechless, his brain snared by the blaze
”Mitra, what a jewel!” Valbroso's hand dived into the chest, ca crilare Valbroso looked like a corpse And the dying hed wildly and suddenly
”Fool!” he screaive you death with it! The scratch on your thuon's head, Valbroso!”